Illusions
by StarCollector88
Summary: The guys find themselves in a predicament involving an odd hotel. There are some twists and turns along the way.
1. Chapter 1

"Michael…Michael…"

Mike felt a gentle tap on his shoulder. He opened his eyes to discover almost complete darkness all around him. He blinked a couple of times and rubbed his eyes with his hands to adjust to the darkness. Afterwards, Peter came into focus.

"What's going on, Shotgun? Are we home yet?"

The Monkees had travelled five hours away from their home in Malibu to compete in a band competition. The prize money was too good to pass up, even if it was going to cost much time and money to travel. They had no luck with the competition and had not even placed.

Mike had driven to the competition, and was combating a nagging frustration about traveling all that way for nothing as well as exhaustion. Micky had offered to drive home since not one Monkee wanted to feel the guitarist's wrath on the way home. Mike had curled up in the back of the Monkeemobile and dozed off in an instant. Now, he had no idea how long he had been sleeping or why it was so pitch black outside.

"Well…" Peter struggled to find the words, "ya see…boy this is tough."

"We ran out of gas and we are in the desert miles away from civilization," Davy blurted out. "See that wasn't so difficult."

"I was trying to soften the blow," Peter said and then added in a lower voice, "for all our sakes."

Mike's right eye began to twitch. He noticed tension start simmering below the surface of his body. Through teeth clenched he said as calmly as he could muster, "How did that happen?"

The noticeably absent drummer, until now, peeked over from behind the driver's seat. "You see I stopped at a gas station miles back while we were at a quarter tank to be proactive," Micky began with a cracking and obviously nervous voice. "I went into the bathroom was about to pay and then pump the gas. This guy started telling me about a shortcut to back home that could have us there in half the time. I was paying so close attention to the directions that…"

"He completely forgot to get the gas," Davy finished for him.

Micky sank lower in the car seat, bracing himself for the eruption of Mount St. Nesmith. Mike could stay calm, cool, and collected in almost any situation. He needed that level-headed temperament to facilitate ideas to get them out of scrapes. However, the guys all knew that Mike had no patience for senseless mistakes. Mike did have a temper that rarely made appearances, but when it did everyone better run for cover.

"We didn't realize it until it was too late," Peter attempted to soothe his bandmate.

It was then that the simmering tension turned to a boil, causing the Texan's temperature to rise with redness covering his face and neck. "Why didn't any of you realize that you stopped to get gas and didn't actually pump any? Or maybe that the gas light came on? Or maybe, I don't know, that this shortcut has taken us away from EVERYTHING!"

The other guys all jumped in their seats. They had been preparing themselves for Mike's response. They had not actually woken him up for fifteen minutes while they argued the best way to approach him. All that preparation didn't make Mike's outburst any less jarring.

No one answered and the disgruntled guitarist roared again, "Somebody better start explaining!"

"Well…you see…I um…" Peter stammered. "I got caught up talking to this guy who was trying to sell me the Golden Gate Bridge for twenty bucks. I didn't have enough money so he ran away. Or maybe that had something to do with the cop car that pulled up…"

"I was keeping an eye on our instruments and making sure no one bothered you, Mate," Davy said triumphantly.

"Then how did you miss Micky not pumping the gas?" Mike gritted his teeth.

"Could have been the blonde a few pumps over that I had to pry him away from so we could leave," Micky snitched on the Brit.

"Perfect!" Mike exclaimed. "I can never leave you three in charge of anything. I feel like I always have to be around to make sure things are okay." Mike was seething with emotional upset. "You can't let an idea pass you by no matter how dumb it is. You are so gullible that a crook can see you coming from states over. And your libido can't chill out for even five seconds," Mike pointed towards each his bandmates accusingly.

Peter sniffled. Micky was again out of sight behind the driver's seat. Davy whose temper could be a match for Mike's finally spoke up after the shock had worn off. "Look, Mike. Yes, we are at fault for this, but so are you. You were so bothered by this trip that you didn't trouble yourself with making sure things were going alright. You insulting us is not going to magically make gas appear in the car," Davy spat.

"Oh you're so cocky now aren't you, Shrimp? Care to take this outside of the car? I can make it so that your looks are no longer an issue for us," Mike threatened.

Davy began to roll up his sleeves, prepared to go toe to toe with someone a whole foot taller than him. Peter spoke up in that moment, always the voice of reason, "Listen guys, I know emotions and tension are high. But us fighting with each other is not going to solve our problem of getting home. It's already ten o'clock. We need to figure this out with clear heads and working together."

"Pete's right," Micky chimed in popping up fully from the driver's seat, "We need a plan…I have a plan."

"Is it a good one?" Mike asked skeptically.

"I have a plan," Micky repeated less certain.

* * *

The guys wandered across the dark, desert road armed with a flashlight they kept in the trunk. There was cool wind blowing around them. As the time crept on it was apparent that soon the temperature would be continuing to drop. Funny thing about deserts, during the day temperatures were startling high however when the darkness arrived the temperature could drop to near freezing.

They had been walking for about forty-five minutes already and had not seen anything remotely helpful.

"If we die, Micky, I'm going to spend the rest of our afterlife reminding you that this was all your fault," Mike said starting to de-escalate from the walk.

"That's cool, I wouldn't mind having company while being a ghost," the drummer joked.

If at all possible the darkness seemed to be enveloping the surroundings more and more as time went on. It was difficult to even see the bright, red band shirt of the person in front of you.

"I hope there are no wild animals out here, like coyotes," Peter whispered as if trying not to let the potential animals hear him.

"Don't worry, Peter," Mike answered and added smugly, "if any coyotes find us we will feed them Davy."

The Brit took that opportunity to stick out his foot and trip the wool hat wearing man. Mike fell to the ground as Davy yelled, "Timber!" Davy then took off running ahead of the others without the flashlight.

Mike stood up and brushed off his clothes. "I guess I did deserve that. Davy, don't get too far ahead! We don't want to lose you out here, even if you're a pain in the ass," Mike called out. "We need to find a solution to this soon. I'm starting to feel dazed and I don't think we will be able to see much longer, it keeps getting dimmer and dimmer out here."

"Hey, fellas!" came a shout back from a little ways ahead. "Hurry up! I think I see something."


	2. Chapter 2

Mike, Micky, and Peter jogged forward to meet Davy. They followed his eyes to see a glimmer of light not too far off in the distance.

"Is that a mirage?" Micky asked.

"Let's hope not," Mike answered. "Come on guys. We have got to get to the source of that light.

The light was getting brighter with every step forward they made in their trek. Soon, they could make out multiple lights on in different windows of a building. They picked up the pace.

"If this really is a mirage then that's just cruel," Micky said.

"I don't think so, Mick. Just a little further and we will be there," Mike said.

"What if they don't accept strangers?" Davy asked.

"Especially long-haired weirdoes," Peter added.

"We at least have to try," Mike answered.

As the building came into focus, the guys could make out its features. It was a black and gray Victorian style home. It looked to be four stories and very expansive. When they approached the building, the sign outside answered those lingering questions. "Hotel Valencia," Davy read aloud as lightning crashed overhead.

"That was ominous," Peter said. All the others stared at him in disbelief. "What? It was on my word of the day calendar today."

"Huh, ironic," Davy said.

"No, ironic was yesterday's word," Peter replied shaking his head.

"I'm gobsmacked," Davy added.

"I haven't gotten to that word yet," Peter answered looking confused.

"Hopefully it's cheap," Mike said changing the subject. "We are strapped for cash."

"Don't worry, Mike. We do have that extra gas money," Micky offered.

It was then that they noticed a woman standing in the hotel's front entrance. She was dressed in an old fashioned black, lace dress, complete with long sleeves, a tall collar covering the neck with a cameo brooch, and a full skirt. Her raven colored hair was tucked in a tight bun at the top of her head. Her emerald green eyes pierced through the men as they approached the front steps.

"Welcome to the Hotel Valencia," she spoke. "I am Agatha, how may I assist you?"

"Hello Miss Agatha," Mike began. "We are here to inquire about a room. You see, our car ran out of gas in the middle of the desert. We don't know where we are or how to proceed until morning. We don't have much money and wanted to see if there is even a possibility of staying here. If there are rooms available. If not, maybe directions to a gas station."

"Plenty of room at the Hotel Valencia. What is it that you gentlemen do for a living?" Agatha asked.

"We are musicians," Micky answered. "We were actually on our way back from a competition."

Agatha rang the bell on the desk indicating there were new occupants of the hotel. "Perfect timing," she exclaimed.

"It is?" Peter questioned.

"We are having a celebration for the residents of the hotel and are in need of music," Agatha replied. "If you are willing to provide the music, you may stay free of charge. We have instruments available here."

"You are having a party? Its 11:15!" Micky said with confusion.

"Forget that, Micky," Mike said. "We would be happy to play. Thank you."

With that Agatha lit a candelabra and led the way down a hallway. "Follow me to your room to freshen up and then meet out in the back courtyard for the celebration."

The corridors and stairwells were very dimly lit by sconces on the dark colored walls. All the décor and furniture looked as antique as the building itself. The floor creaked as the five made their way to the very end of the hall on the second floor. Mike swore he heard whispers of voices as they walked through the hotel corridors. He decided that it may just be the structure settling. He thought to himself that this could be their saving grace, but he couldn't shake the feeling of impending misery deep down in his core.

"I'm scared, Mike," Peter interrupted Mike's thoughts.

"Why is that, Shotgun?"

"I have a bad feeling about this place."

Mike in that moment shoved down his own feelings of unease to comfort his friend. "It will all be okay. I promise." Mike gave Peter's shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

* * *

"Here we are." Agatha used a vintage skeleton key to open a room that looked just as antiquated as everything else. "I'll leave you to your preparations." She turned to Davy, who was standing closest to the door, and placed her hand on his cheek delicately. "Such a lovely face." And then she departed.

Davy blushed, "Would you look at that. I think she's sweet on me."

Mike made some revving engine sounds, "The libido is powered up."

"Don't make me cause you to come crashing down like I did before," Davy countered.

"That was a lucky shot, Tiny," Mike responded. "The darkness would have caused anyone to be susceptible to that kind of trickery. But make no mistake; if circumstances were different I would have walloped you."

"Better dust yourself off, Mate. There are traces of my victory all over your clothes," Davy provoked.

Mike was about to put his vertically challenged friend in his place, when he noticed Peter keeled over a chair in the room. "Pete? Are you okay?"

The bassist let out a low moan and lifted his head to look at his bandmates. His face was pale and he had sweat beads forming around his face. "My stomach doesn't feel so good."

"It was probably one of those cheese and grape jelly sandwiches you made us for the ride out here," Micky offered. "Thankfully I passed on that delicacy."

"But I ate that hours ago. I didn't start feeling sick until we walked into this hotel. I knew I had a weird feeling about this place."

"That's ridiculous," Davy said, "I think your illness is causing you to have strange sensitivities. Soon you're going to start hallucinating."

"I'm telling you guys…"

Mike interrupted Peter, "Listen, Pete, why don't you rest up here and we will go play the party. I don't want you to push yourself too much. Davy can play bass for you. Deal?"

"Don't leave me by myself up here guys," Peter trembled.

Micky helped usher Peter to one of the beds. "Don't worry Big Peter. We shouldn't be down there too long. How much longer can this shindig last? I mean, it's late enough already."


	3. Chapter 3

Davy opened the door to find Agatha uncomfortably close. The Monkees all seemed to jump three feet in the air. "Don't do that!" they all say simultaneously.

"Are you ready?" asked the raven haired beauty. She seemed to be completely oblivious to the fact that her presence on the other side of the door was bizarre. There was also an intensity about her that caused a sense unease; the prolonged, unblinking stares paired with a stiff rigidity in posture and mannerisms.

It took a few moments before anyone could collect their wits again. Mike finally spoke up, "We are, but Peter will not be joining us. He is not feeling well and he needs to rest."

"Well, there is no rest for the wicked, so your friend must be pure of heart," Agatha stated absently. "Come, I'll lead you to the courtyard." She turned with a flourish.

"What do you suppose she meant by that?" Davy whispered to Micky.

"Not sure, but I do know Morticia Addams gives me the creeps," Micky answered with a shudder.

* * *

The Monkees (sans Peter) followed Agatha down the corridors back to the place where they had begun. Mike's own sinking feeling returned once back in the halls. Not only was it about the troubling voices that he swear he heard murmuring throughout the space, but also concern about Peter. The concern was not about the illness; Mike had an uneasy feeling about leaving him alone in this foreign place. Peter scared easily and was more fragile than the other three.

"Say Agatha? How late is this party? I don't want to leave Peter alone for too long," Mike inquired.

Their hostess whirled around to and made her way towards Mike becoming unnervingly close once again. "Not to worry. We take care of our guests here," she answered cryptically. "Our establishment has no use for time constraints."

"Does that mean there's no check out time?" Micky teased with a nervous chuckle.

Agatha didn't acknowledge the drummer or even notice that there was anyone else in the hall besides her and Mike. Her emerald eyes were locked with his brown ones, almost as if she was waiting for him to crack first. Clearly, she didn't know who she was dealing with.

"What do you mean by 'we take care of our guests here'? Is that in reference to those attending the party or to Peter?" Mike pressed.

However, before he even finished the question, Agatha was lighting the way down the dark corridors. Mike paused for a moment questioning what just happened and if it was safe to follow along with this temptress' subtle demands. Against his better judgment, Mike caught up behind Davy.

"Man, there is something about her that is off. I don't trust her," Mike whispered.

"You're being paranoid," the Brit replied. "Sure she seems a tad eccentric, but anyone that captivating can't be all bad."

"I should have known that would be your answer," Mike sighed. "Try not to get yourself into a romantic predicament today, I've already got Peter to worry about."

"Who? Me? Never. I do no such thing," Davy responded sounding shocked.

"Fern, Bettina, Lorelei, Colette, Angelita…"

"Okay, you don't have to be a mean old git," Davy said exasperated.

"I don't know what that means, but I'm going to guess it was an insult," Mike disengaged from the conversation. Was it just him or did the voices say 'trust your instincts?'

* * *

Agatha led the three man band out to a large outdoor courtyard space. It was lit up by wrought iron torches lining pathways and a cement dance floor. The rest of the space was covered by well-kept rose gardens and topiaries.

"Doesn't it seem hotter out here than it was getting in the desert? I was for sure that it would be freezing by now," Micky noted.

Mike took a moment to focus on the temperature. He hadn't realized at first due to taking in the visual portion of the courtyard, but now that Micky mentioned it, it was about 20 degrees warmer. He noticed the sensation of sweat forming on his forehead threatening to trickle down his temple.

Davy interrupted Mike's thoughts, "Maybe it's the torches; not only do they provide light but also some warmth. What I'm more concerned about is the guest list…"

Mike took that opportunity to observe the partygoers. There were ten people out on the dance floor…no not people men. All the guests were men. The interesting feature of these men were that all of them appeared to be dressed in out of date, old fashioned clothing, like Agatha. None of the men were wearing clothing from the same time period it was all ranging from potentially turn of the century to the 1940s. Not only that, but all of them were standing absently around the dance floor not interacting with each other as if they were waiting for a cue to mingle with one another. And was it Mike's imagination or was no one blinking?

"…I mean all these blokes look wealthy. I can't compete with that. Agatha looks to be a woman of exquisite taste and I won't be able to provide that. Especially with the stiff competition," Davy finished sounding defeated.

"Stiff is right," Micky remarked. "Did you guys notice how out of it they look?"

"Maybe they are just waiting for us to start," Mike answered not sure if he believed himself completely. "And Davy you don't need to worry about pursuing Agatha, because we are out of here in the morning. Try to keep yourself in check until then. Let's liven up this crowd."

It was as if the music was magic, as soon as the band began to play, the zombie like hotel patrons filed out onto the dance floor. The dance moves themselves were as archaic as their fashion sense. The efforts were also extremely rigid as if any sharp, sudden movements would cause injury.

Throughout the six song set that was played, Mike was noting all the odd happenings. After each song, the guests did not clap or make any noise for that matter. When the song ended the men shuffled around, seemingly unsure of what to do with themselves; but once the music started up again they began dancing again like clockwork. There was something not quite right here, and Mike couldn't put his finger on what that was.


	4. Chapter 4

Agatha appeared stealthily on stage, just as she had outside their room door. "Thank you all. That was quite a show. I know the residents appreciated. That's the most lively I have seen them in some time."

"That was lively? I'd hate to see what they were like before," Micky commented.

"What do you mean 'residents' and 'some time?' This is a hotel. Shouldn't guests be checking out in a timely manner?" Mike asked uncertainly.

"Did I say residents? I meant guests," Agatha corrected herself questionably. "Some of our _guests_ are frequent visitors; here travelling on business or pleasure purposes."

"That explains it," Davy said staring dreamily at Agatha.

 _Figures_ , Mike thought. He made a mental note to discuss the odd behavior of the party patrons to the guys later on. Right now, in front of Agatha, would not get him much of a response from Davy. Plus, he didn't want her to hear about his personal observations.

"Now you will be our honored guests at dinner with the hotel's proprietor," Agatha broke into Mike's thoughts.

"Dinner?" Micky questioned. "It's one AM."

"Now, Micky," Davy cajoled, "how can we pass up the opportunity to be honored guests? It would be improper to refuse. Lead the way, darling," he finished taking Agatha's arm in his.

"Boy, he's laying it on thick," Micky rolled his eyes.

* * *

The three bandmates entered the grand dining hall decorated much the same as the rest of the hotel. There were about fifteen round tables with eight chairs each, fully decked out with dining settings and floral, candle centerpieces. The partygoers had entered the room and dispersed between two of the tables. The guys followed Agatha to a table in the center of the room that was already occupied by another old fashioned dressed man gray hair and a handlebar mustache.

"Welcome Monkees," the stranger greeted them with a hearty voice.

"Doctor Livingstone, I presume," Micky attempted to lighten the mood.

"No, Professor Hadley," the man answered with an air of confusion.

Mike let out a long sigh, "Nice to meet you Professor. This is your hotel?"

"Why yes. I opened the Hotel Valencia many years ago. I heard you all have been making quite a splash around here with your musical abilities."

"If you call causing the mundane to turn slightly bland, then yes," Micky said sarcastically. Davy elbowed him in the ribs.

"Please, sit," Professor Hadley offered.

"With all due respect, Professor," Mike began taking the seat that was offered, "we can't stay for dinner. Our friend Peter is in the room not feeling well and we have been away from him long enough already."

"Balderdash," Professor Hadley started as Davy and Micky mouthed _balderdash_ to each other, "your friend will be okay while we get to know one another."

Mike had reservations, but allowed the professor to have some time. After all, he was letting them stay at the hotel free of charge. "Okay just for a few moments."

Professor regaled the three friends with tales of his years being man of science. All the ventures and expeditions he had been on in the name of scientific exploration. Mike thought it sounded as if this guy had been alive for hundreds of lifetimes. No way one man could do all that in 60 or 70 years, however old this fraud was. He couldn't help but to continue to check his watch for the time.

Micky though was eating this all up. He was a tinkerer himself and on occasion experimented in science and business ventures. "I could listen to these stories forever, Professor."

Mike hated to break up this adoration fest, but it was nearing 1:45. "Thanks for everything, Professor. We really should get going."

"Shucks, Mike," Micky protested. "I was hoping to hear more."

"Well, young man, why don't you stay and keep me company. I have so much more to share," Professor Hadley proposed.

"I would love to," Micky said shooting Mike a pleading look.

"Sure, Mick. Davy and I will go check on Peter and get rest," Mike answered slightly annoyed. "Don't stay down too late."

"I won't," Micky replied before turning back to his host. "You know Professor Hadley I dabble in the sciences. I have made some intriguing discoveries."

"What have you discovered, Mr. Dolenz?" Professor Hadley asked.

"Mostly that I cause a lot of explosions," the drummer admitted.

Mike shook his head as he left Micky.

* * *

Mike and Davy trudged back up to the room. All along the way Mike assessed if Davy had noticed the same oddities at the party that he had.

"I didn't notice anything peculiar," Davy answered.

"How could you not?" Mike practically shouted at the Brit. "Those guys were like zombies and seemed as though they were only able to semi function with music and nothing else."

"Maybe they were trying to forget all their troubles," Davy offered.

"With those blank stares it was apparent they didn't think about much to begin with," Mike retorted.

"Okay maybe it was to spark some sense of remembrance. Why are you so uptight about this? It's not like we are here forever. It's just temporary. Think of it as another crazy experience to add to the memory bank," Davy replied.

Mike wasn't completely paying attention though. He was tuning in and out of his conversation with Davy and distracted by those voices in the corridors again. Was it just him? Were they trying to tell him something? _No you're just exhausted_ , he thought.

They finally reached their room and carefully opened the door and entered. "Check on Peter while I go to the bathroom," Mike directed.

"Hey, Mike," Davy said stopping the taller man in his tracks with the concern in his voice.

"What is it?"

"Peter's not here."


	5. Chapter 5

"What do you mean not here?" Mike asked.

"He isn't in the bed and this room isn't very big. I don't see him anywhere, do you?" Davy answered.

Mike scanned the sparsely furnished room. Davy was right there was no sign of the ill bassist. Something wasn't right. Peter was so sick when they had left, there was no way he had the strength to navigate these unfamiliar halls. And if he had decided to search for his friends to join them, he for sure would have gotten lost. Whatever the case for his absence, Mike was feeling panicked. He noticed his thoughts racing as well as his heart; he had goosebumps, and felt extremely tense.

"No worries," he said trying to convince himself more than Davy. "I bet Peter was disoriented and tried to walk around and find us. Let's walk around a bit and if we don't find anything, we go to the Agatha for help."

With that they were out the door.

* * *

It was nearing 2:30 in the morning. Mike and Davy had been searching for Peter for about a half hour with no luck. Even though the hotel was large in stature, there weren't many places to get lost. It was pretty straightforward, three floors of hotel rooms that were all locked. No secret passages found or stairwells besides the main staircase. The main floor was different, there was the dining hall, the door to the courtyard and some other rooms that Mike was sure were off limits to guests.

"I say it's time for reinforcements," Mike said ringing the bell on the large wooden, sculpted front desk.

Agatha quickly appeared as if she had been waiting for them. "What can I do for you?"

"Davy, fill her in while I go get Micky to help us," Mike said. He took a few steps before turning around and whispering, "No Monkee business, Tiny. This is a pressing issue and we have no time for goo goo eyes."

Davy glared daggers at Mike before nodding in agreement.

* * *

Mike entered the dining hall to find the space deserted. Only an hour before it was lively…well sedentary with all the patrons, Micky, and Professor Hadley. Now there were no signs that the room had ever been inhabited. All the place settings were gone and the chairs were turned over sitting on top of the tables. However, the most telling sign was the dust that covered the furniture. It was a vastly different environment than the one he left.

"Micky!" Mike called out in vain.

An employee, presumably a bellhop of sorts judging from the clothing, entered the room from a side entrance. He was extremely pale with black hair tucked into his uniform hat. He looked at Mike with his sunken in dark eyes.

"Sir, have you seen Professor Hadley and a younger brunette guy that was in his company?" Mike asked desperately.

The bell hop stared at Mike curiously, "We haven't had any meals in this room in ages."

"What?" Mike said confused. "I was in here about an hour ago at a table with Professor Hadley and two friends. These other tables also had the other hotel guests at them."

The bell hop repeated himself eerily, "We haven't had any meals in this room in ages." And with that he exited just as quickly as he entered.

Mike stood flummoxed. Was he in the right room? Of course! He was sure of it. He came in the same way he entered and exited the room earlier. Also, the room looked the same other than the untouched look it had currently. Nothing was making sense.

 _Maybe Micky went with the Professor to check out his lab or something. He does love that science stuff,_ Mike thought. _I'm sure there is a reasonable explanation for everything. It will all get straightened out._

His best bet now was to join Davy and Agatha. Apparently there was safety in numbers.

* * *

Mike should not have been surprised after the way things had been going. When he approached the front desk, he found it vacant. No sign of either Davy or Agatha. _Maybe they began looking without me. Or Davy took the opportunity to make his move. Reasonable explanations._

He took a shot and rang the bell at the desk. No answer. Mike stood for a moment massaging his temples. _Great! I guess I'm a lone wolf. Nothing good can form this._


	6. Chapter 6

Mike had been searching for any signs of life for almost an hour. He was beginning to notice the signs of fatigue; headache, the room was spinning, muscles were weak, and he couldn't think straight. It was a miracle that he was still going. It was now three in the morning. He had been constantly in motion since the car had broken down. This hotel was supposed to be relaxing and it had been causing them nothing but trouble.

Mike continued combing the first floor space. All the twists and turns in the hallways was not helping the sense of dizziness he was experiencing. There was a definite possibility that he was looking in the same places twice or that he was just missing crossing paths with his friends by mere seconds.

He was far from a quitter, but Mike was getting ready to throw in the towel. He was confused and couldn't possibly make any headway with the fatigue and confusion. He paused for a moment and adjusted his green wool hat while looking at the floor. Suddenly, Mike heard a small sound coming from the left. He snapped his head up and caught a quick glimpse of the bellhop from earlier slip into a secret door camouflaged in a wall.

Mike sighed, "Onward and upward."

* * *

Mike crept into the same door he had seen the bellhop enter. The space was darker than the rest of the hotel and it took a few minutes for Mike's eyes to adjust. Once he could see, Mike observed his surroundings. The room was decorated just like the grand dining hall with antiquated furniture. There were mirrors on the ceiling and stone walls. The only major difference was it appeared that no one frequented the room on a regular basis; there were cobwebs and dust all over everything.

Mike was snapped out of his daze by a voice, "Welcome to the Master's Chamber, Mr. Nesmith." Mike turned around to see Agatha standing before him.

"Agatha!" Mike exclaimed, "I have been looking all over for you in Davy. Not only is Peter missing, Micky is missing too."

"Your friends aren't missing. They are all right here," she said gesturing towards a table towards the back corner.

Mike glanced over and saw his three friends sitting at the table; all had their arms stretched resting on the table and vacant looks upon their faces. Looking around further he noticed the other tables in the room had all the guests that he had seen at the party earlier were present with the same mannerisms as his friends. All people at the tables were at the beginning stages of being covered in cobwebs and dust just as much as the furniture.

Mike approached the table with his bandmates. "Hey fellas? What's going on? Let's get you outta here." None of them stirred. "Davy? Micky? Peter?"

"They aren't going to answer you," Agatha interrupted.

"What have you done to them?"

"I haven't done anything to them," Agatha answered monotoned. "I am in the same position as everyone else here. We are all just prisoners here, of our own device."

"What do you mean?" Mike questioned nervously. But before he could even finish that sentence, Agatha had taken her place at the table and was in the same dissociated state as everyone else.

Mike was at a loss of what to do. He didn't want to leave the guys here and he had no idea of how to get them out. At that time the voices he had heard throughout the night returned, "Save yourself. It's too late for them."

* * *

Before Mike could even think of what to do, his fight or flight instinct kicked in and he was running towards the front entrance. He had to find his way out of this hotel and get help. He didn't know how or what, but something told him that getting out was the first step.

When he got close to the check in desk, Professor Hadley stepped out from behind it blocking the way. "Whoa, whoa, Son. What's the hurry?"

"Professor Hadley? Where have you been? Do you know what's going on?" a frantic Mike sputtered.

"Slow down. Relax. Now what do you mean?" Professor asked.

"There's an old room and all the guests are in there and all of them are dead. Well, not literally dead, but disconnected from reality and the world. Blank looks on their faces," Mike said a little slower but still panicky.

"I am aware, Mr. Nesmith," Professor Hadley said matter-of-factly.

Mike's face was a ball of confusion, "You are?"

"Yes," Professor Hadley answered. "Our business is designed to take in the desperate and weary, in exchange of course."

"Exchange for what?"

"For the souls naturally. As you could see from your friends and the other guests, they check out mentally, but they can never leave," the Professor said with a maniacal laugh. "Now come along, Mr. Nesmith." Professor Hadley reached out to grab a hold of the guitarist.

Mike turned just in time to get out of the Professor's clutches. He began sprinting back in the direction in which he had come. As he got closer to the secret door he slipped on the floor falling on his back and hitting his head on the cement floor. Darkness.


	7. Chapter 7

"Michael…Michael…"

Mike felt a gentle tap on his shoulder. He opened his eyes to discover lights that were extremely bright. He blinked a couple of times and rubbed his eyes with his hands to adjust to the lighting. He was unable to get a clear view of his surroundings right away.

Mike's head was pounding. Within a few moments, the memory of the previous events flashed through his mind. He attempted to call out but found that his mouth was tender and in immense pain. He tried to sit up, but was pushed down by what felt like two pairs of hands.

"Mike, stay there alright," a voice said, "you're in no shape to be moving 'round like that."

Mike's eyes finally adjusted to the room. He was in his own bedroom back at the pad with Peter and Davy pushing him down on the bed.

"Mike the doctor said you need to relax and rest since you've had this procedure," Peter said surprisingly stern.

 _Procedure_? Mike thought. He made an attempt to speak and Davy paused him very quickly.

"Now Mike you really don't need to be talking and damaging the stitches in your mouth."

"Stitches?" Mike garbled.

"Yes," Peter answered. "From getting your wisdom teeth removed. Remember we took you this morning for the procedure. You have been out for quite some time and were tossing and turning quite a bit. Micky went to the pharmacy to get your pain medication."

Mike stared at his friends stunned. The car breaking down, the Hotel Valencia, his missing friends; it was all a drug induced dream from his wisdom tooth procedure. He felt relief wash over his body. He would definitely have to tell the guys about this once he could talk.


End file.
